How to return to where you belong
by Chameleonesque
Summary: This is a story about a girl, loosely me (it actually is written in first person) who returns to Middle Earth where she is meant to be
1. Humidity and being trapped

It was a humid August day, and the stifling heat seemed to pass right through the walls of our house, and melt away my energy, regardless of the air conditioning. Bored and listless, I decided to pay a visit to the Shoreview library in hopes that it would be cooler and that perhaps I would even find some interesting book to read.  
I drove to the library, parked as close as I could, and wandered inside. I headed for the back and pored over stacks of books, but didn't find anything that interested me enough to check out until I discovered an old book hidden behind a huge stack of fantasy novels. I picked up the hardbound book and blew off an inch of dust from the top. In archaic writing, it read, The Lord of The Rings. My eyes widened in intruige, and I gingerly lifted the cover to reveal the title page in black liquid script.  
On a sudden whim, I shut the cover and decided to read it at home. I picked up the book and turned it over in search of a barcode. I couldn't find anything that identified it as belonging to the library, so I slipped it in my backpack after a furtive glance around the library. It didn't set off any alarms as I walked through the door.  
I drove home and brought my backpack upstairs to my room. I carefully extracted the book and set it in my lap as I sat on my bed. My sister knocked on my door and let herself in. What's that? she inquired, an interested eye glued on the book.  
The Lord of the Rings, I replied stiffly. I found it at the library.  
She wandered closer. Can I see?  
My arms tightened around it. It's mine! You have your own!  
She shrugged and walked out. Fine, whatever. You don't have to freak out.  
I didn't! I called back in indignation, but did not ask her to stay.  
When she closed the door, I turned my attention back to the book. I read for a while, fingers carefully turning each brittle page, until I came across a strange folded piece of paper wedged between two pages.


	2. Cross the void of time and space

I unfolded the piece of paper and stared at the strange words written across it. They looked foreign, and I spoke them aloud. Lelya cúma lumea ar nomëa, fëa nan nehte ahya**.** Rúma Ambarllolya terë nendëa-ahya, kurullo Endore maquentë.  
Suddenly, the letters seemed to rearrange themselves and English words bored into my mind.   
Cross the void of time and space, same soul but form transubstantiate. Move from your world through portal door, your help Middle Earth does implore.  
I murmered the verse to myself, and wondered what it was doing in the middle of this old book, and what that book was doing in the Shoreview public library. I couldn't wonder for long, though, because I suddenly felt very dizzy. I dropped the note and fell backwards, hitting my head against the wall. I closed my eyes in pain and vertigo, and finally awoke to a voice.  
Oi, that was fast.  
I groaned and sat up, rubbing my temples in confusion.  
Hush, Pip, another voice spoke up.  
I looked tp to see four little beings with pointy ears and a taller man with long grey hair, matching beard, and a pointy hat. They looked suspiciously like what I imagined hobbits and Gandalf the wizard to look like. Oh, man, my mind was spinning. I must've hit my head harder than I thought.  
Back off, guys. Give her some air. Let Gandalf explain, yet another voice commanded, and I looked up gratefully but still skeptically at the mention of the name Gandalf.  
What is going on? I demanded of the bearded man. Where am I?  
He smiled down at me kindly, but he had a slightly puzzled expression on his face. You are in Rivendell, he began, but was interrupted by the first voice that spoke.  
I thought she was supposed to be an Elven elder or magician or something, not a hobbit.  
So did I, Gandalk spoke softly, to himself more than to me or anyone else. I have no idea what could've gone wrong. Everything in the spell should've been in place: the reader had to have lived in Middle Earth previously, so they would feel a subconsious pull to read the Histories in the first place; they had to have been High Elven in order to be able to understand the Quenya Elvish; and they had to have skill in magic in order for the words to take effect. He glanced down at me. How we ended up with a hobbit girl I have no idea.  
I glanced up at him with questioning eyes. Hobbit? What are you talking about?  
he replied simply, and held up a mirror to my face. I was startled to see a vague simile of my own features, but hobbit-sized. I ran the tips of my fingers over the pointy tips of my ears and gasped.  
What happened to me? I exclaimed and stood up quickly, but Gandalf laid a calming hand on my shoulder.  
If you relax, I'll tell you.  
I drew a deep breath into my lungs, nodded, and sat down.  
All right, he began, I'll explain. People in your world believe in souls as a seperate entity from the body, correct?  
I nodded dumbly.  
Well, your soul circulates throughout your various lives and worlds. In a previous life, you apparently were a hobbit. I called you back into your prior existance to help us with our quest.  
But what about the fact that there are so many more people on my world than yours? I challenged, still disbelieving. The population is exploding.  
I said they circulate. I didn't say new souls were never born. Many are, he answered sternly, then his face relaxed into a kind smile. But _you _are an ancient soul.


End file.
